


All this, and heaven too

by Apfelessig



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Bro-ship, ghostly visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:23:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apfelessig/pseuds/Apfelessig
Summary: Crisp as morning dew, two spectral figures stand by his bed. One is doubled over, howling, while the other gives him a smile the likes of which used to infuriate him to distraction. Now it nearly stops his heart."Hello Benny boy," Mercutio says.----Benvolio gets a ghostly visit from his friends. They've got some questions for him.





	All this, and heaven too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThunderInOurHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderInOurHearts/gifts).



> Thanks to queenofchildren for getting the ball rolling on this one :)

The first time, he hears a faint echo of Mercutio's laughter in the Montague halls. It hits him like out of a storybook. He stumbles on the steps, turns to face nothing, chest closing up. His face falls into tears, unguarded, until he remembers where he is and looks around for his uncle's disapproving gaze. He shakes his head and goes on with his day, tight-lipped.

The second time would have been equally heart-shattering, except he's taking his bath and he's pretty sure he just heard "My kingdom for that ass" in a familiar and wistful voice. _I've gone mad,_ he thinks. _I'm marrying a Capulet and I've gone mad._ This feels reassuring at the time.

The third time he's returning home swaying in the dead of night, and it's not until after he's passed through an inexplicably cold mist in the upper hallway that he registers a tinny replica of his cousin's voice saying "Forget it, he's too drunk". _I'm never drinking again,_ he swears, groggily, _not cheap wine._

The fourth time, fittingly, it is midnight. Benvolio lies in bed in half slumber, after a long day of noble dinners and scheming and getting nowhere much. He's moments away from slipping into restless sleep when he feels something cold lick his face.

He yelps and stumbles out of bed, dragging the sheets with him. It's only when he's found his scabbard and drawn his sword that he hears the laughter.

And sees them.

Crisp as morning dew, two spectral figures stand by his bed. One is doubled over, howling, while the other gives him a smile the likes of which used to infuriate him to distraction. Now it nearly stops his heart.

"Hello Benny boy," Mercutio says.

The other figure stands and wipes tears from his eyes, still hiccuping. "I guess you got his attention at least."

"Always works. Think we've scared him, though. What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Benvolio finds the spit needed to form words. "Merc?"

"In the flesh. Aren't you glad to see us?" He looks at Benvolio's wavering sword tip. "Oh, what're you going to do, stab us? We're spirits, you idiot." To prove his point, Mercutio pointedly walks through the bed post. "Now light a lamp, you'll trip on something."

Benvolio's hand trembles as he does. The effect is disconcerting. A dim glow casts gold onto the red chairs, but his friends glimmer in the air like moon dust against the dark walls.

"I heard rumours... about the Capulet house..."

The second figure sighs in Romeo's timbre. "Juliet's having a really hard time getting through to them, it's been rough on her."

Benvolio sinks into a chair, staring at nothing. "I need a minute," he says to himself.

"Take one," Romeo says and sits in the window bay. Mercutio idly walks the room, peering onto shelves. 

Barely ten seconds pass before Benvolio asks, "How are you here? Didn't you... pass on?" He looks between them. "Aren't you supposed to be in Heaven?"

Mercutio gives him a pointed look. "As if I could get in. And no, turns out things are different than we thought." He stops, looking uncomfortable. 

"We're not really supposed to talk about it," Romeo says, and the thought of his friends not dishing on a topic adds another layer of weirdness on the whole affair. Romeo notices his look and gives a small cough. "Ben, some things it's best to just roll with."

"Right." Benvolio stands slowly. "So you've been... around?" he asks, casually.

"Oh yeah," Mercutio says. "Been enjoying the drama. Goodness, Verona, you bed of sin. If you had any idea what goes on behind these doors. We've been having a grand old time, haven't we, Romeo?"

"I would have liked a better funeral," the younger Montague says dryly.

"What? Hundreds of swordfights in your honour? Sounds way better than some stuffy royal procession, which is what _I_ got. Anyway, the best was yet to come, wasn't it?"

Too late Benvolio recognizes the looks on their faces.

"So heart-warming to see love bloom on stony ground," Romeo grins.

"Yeah, Benvolio, you traitor, you're getting married?"

Benvolio opens his mouth to answer, but the image of his dead friends giving him crap for trying to clean up a mess they started isn't helped by the fact that he can see the curtains rustling _through_ their heads.

"It was the only option left." He tries to focus on their translucent faces instead. "Anyway, why am I getting an earful? At least I can say it's not my idea, Romeo's the one who did it for _love!_ "

Romeo lets the words hang in the air, then says, "Cousin, your priorities are messed up."

"And you're full of shit," Mercutio says, throwing himself casually several inches into an upholstered chair.

Benvolio raises and drops a hand, exasperated. "What's this now?"

"Oh, no, don't play coy." He crosses his feet on the table. "We've been watching you. Putting an extra swoop of pomade in your hair—"

"Keeping that shirt open to the waist," Romeo grins.

"Doing all sorts of kind and considerate things for your beloved," Mercutio gags.

"She's not my beloved."

"No? _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day_ —"

"Oh, _fuck off_. I didn't write that."

Romeo places a hand on his shoulder. "We know, cousin. You have no language skills."

"Neither does the man who did," Mercutio frowns. "A dozen lines complaining about the nature of seasons then happens to remember he's in love with the last couplet. _And every fair from fair sometime declines by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd?_ Just dreary."

"Spoken by the master of romance himself," Benvolio jabs, finally on firmer footing. But Mercutio's eyes hold a devilish glint.

"At least when I want a girl's goods, I get them."

The throwaway line sends a stiffening down Benvolio's spine that fills the room with thick tension. Slowly he says, "She's worth far more than that."

"Oh, so you are in love with her then?" Romeo interrupts.

Mercutio watches Benvolio's mouth open and shut with a mischievous look. "Oh, Romeo," he croons, "our little baby's all grown up."

The flush to his face betrays his scoffed "Don't know what you're talking about." His friends start trading lines in a sing-song voice.

"So very in love."

"Can't bear to be apart."

"Sketching her likeness by candlelight."

"Shut up, the pair of you!"

"Think we've hit a nerve, Merc."

"Too bad it won't go anywhere," Mercutio sighs. "Ben, you're a good guy, but it's getting embarrassing watching you try to flirt with her."

Romeo is no more comforting. "It's a bit weak."

Benvolio feels irrationally defensive at this."Because I didn't throw her up against a wall—"

"Tried and tested method, Benny boy, and besides, usually I'm being pulled along."

That barely deserves a response. He tries again. "At least I'm getting to know her properly first—"

"Are you ragging on me and Juliet?" Romeo's face betrays mock hurt. "That's so tasteless, we died tragically for our love."

"It's not that," Benvolio says, caught off guard, "it's just that—this marriage, it's going to happen anyway. It should be based on something real. _Anything_ real."

There's a moment of quiet as Mercutio and Romeo exchange looks. Romeo clears his throat and rubs his chin pensively.

"Flowers are too obvious, but it'll be worse if you don't. Maybe a walk through the city? Juliet says she likes books, you could take her on a tour of the great architectural sites of Verona, impress her with how smart you are."

"Oh, wonderful, your wife is part of this too?" Benvolio snaps, while another part of him thinks, _The ponte pietra, definitely, the arco dei gavi and the arche scaligere, then through the palazzo giusti..._

"Oh yeah, Juliet thinks you two will be great together!"

"She does?"

"That or you'll tear each other apart, we have a small betting pool going," Romeo admits. "Tybalt's betting against."

Mercutio looks over his friend critically. "Ben, I think you need tighter pants, these are leaving too much to the imagination. Definition is key."

With that, the surrealness of the situation properly sinks in and Benvolio drags his hands down his face.

"Yeah, that's it. I think I'm done. This is... this is all far too much."

Mercutio shrugs and gets to his feet. "Well, can't say we didn't try to help. Come on, Romeo. We're past due as it is."

They both look ready to leave when Benvolio starts.

"Hold on, I have one more bone to pick with you."

"Oh?"

Benvolio waits until Mercutio's attention is fixed on him then pushes venom into each word.

" 'Tomorrow you shall find me a grave man' ?"

Mercutio grins widely. "That has to be my best one."

"By all the— _Mercutio_ —"

"What was I supposed to say? 'I'faith, is it getting colder or is it just me'? Although that's not bad—"

" _I watched you die._ "

Romeo and Mercutio share rare bashful looks. Romeo steps forward, and the warmth in his face defies the chill in the room. "And he watched you fade away, Ben, along with your tears and your warm hands. We all suffered."

He squeezes into Benvolio's arm and turns to leave.

"Wait!" Benvolio's voice is tight with a panic he hadn't felt creep up on him. He steadies himself. "Will you be back?"

The smiles he gets are as bright as the moon. "Our best friend engaged to a Capulet harpy? We wouldn't miss it for the world."


End file.
